


Memories of Things Past

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [47]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Difficult topic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 22:53:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Peter knew some of his memories were missing entirely, those that remained were often flawed, and frankly, if some of the ones now trickling back into his mind were real, then he'd have preferred they stayed missing.  Because now, when anyone mentioned Kinch, or LeBeau, or Olsen, he felt the bitter anger, the harsh resentment start to boil up inside.  Yes, he'd preferred those memories had stayed missing in action.When Peter's memories start to resurface, Andrew breaks a promise he'd made to himself back in camp.  He knew, accepted, telling Peter the truth might jeopardize his newfound place in Haven, but he couldn't let it go on this way.  He knew there was no way to forgive the unforgiveable, but how was he to find a way to explain the unexplainable?





	Memories of Things Past

**Author's Note:**

> While this is still a very uncomfortable story, it has been re-worked to make it a much more Gen version than the original. I admit it was a challenge to keep the impact while modifying it so much, but I felt it important to leave the story in the saga, as it helps explain a great deal about Andrew's feelings about Hogan, and Hogan's past and future actions. There are a few stories that I AM omitting, at least for now, since I can't quite figure out how to keep the story line AND Gen them down sufficiently. Pity, there's one in that lot that Andrew thinks of as his piece de resistance, his tour de force, his . . . Well, you get the drift; him and that blasted trinket cabinet! "Bloody 'ell, Andrew!!"

The discussion started fairly mildly, Andrew somehow bringing the discussion around to the concept of 'erotic', from a casual mention of the trinket cabinet, with the eventual question for each of them, coming from Peter, but somehow Caeide thought it had been instigated by Andrew. Well, he did do some manoeuvering around when he was in the mood, she thought, having been caught up in his fits and starts before; he always had a reason, even if it was that which it took the others awhile to figure out.

The question was "What was the most erotic thing you've ever experienced?" with the caveat of, before Haven, to eliminate their own adventuresome habits.

It then had to be narrowed down to 'before the camp' and 'at the camp' for the guys; after the camp there was nothing before Haven. Well, Peter had come pretty much directly there, and Andrew looked incredulous that he'd even be asked. Andrew claimed that he didn't even know what erotic was before the camp, either the word or the idea, and Peter came up with one fairly tame, but hilarious example, (and Caeide knew quite well he had chosen that instance deliberately, wanting to keep things light; she knew from hearing stories that one year she'd spent in London that he could have chosen others far more outrageous), and Caeide just got a funny smile on her face and said "well, my fantasy life was pretty erotic, and built over a couple of little instances, one over coffee and a poker game, the other around a little black dress, but nothing actually physical happened, not that I'd call erotic, not before this year, except for some rather interesting dreams during those years", and Peter jerked back his head, looking at her narrowly.

She knew he'd be asking questions later; he knew about the coffee and poker game, that had been pivotal in his decision to stay at Haven when Hogan urged him to leave with him; but he'd have some curiousity about the little black dress fantasy; he knew the occasion and what it had meant for him, but the rest, yes, he'd want to know that. Whether he'd press her here and now, in front of Andrew, when the two of them had finished, or wait til later was the only question.

'At the camp', though, brought thoughtful expressions, and serious glances at each other, and a puzzled frown or two.

"Guys, from the expressions on your faces, maybe we should just table this," Caeide offered, though she admitted to an increased level of curiousity about what had started as a fairly benign question. She just wasn't sure she liked the expression on either of their faces.

"Peter, it's your game, your decision."

He looked at Andrew, who said, "no, let's go ahead with this," and Peter nodded at her in agreement, but like he wasn't too sure he'd like where they were headed. Andrew, in particular, had a tight, but determined set to his face; all of a sudden, this wasn't a game, not to him, and probably not to Peter. Now she was sure Andrew had engineered this somehow, for some very specific reason.

Strangely enough, their 'most erotic' seemed to overlap, though in a highly strange fashion. She guessed it made sense that their stories came out in the form of an alternating monologue, well, mostly. It wasn't long, though, before she realized they either had a very different definition of erotic than she had, or maybe they were just trying to turn what had happened into something they could call erotic, instead of what it had been, which, in her eyes, had been something much less benign.

Andrew started:

"Wilson had come up with a new sleeping pill he thought might be useful when performing surgery on the guys; the Colonel thought it might be useful in getting the bad guys out of the way while we did our missions." Peter's eyes narrowed at this introduction, like he was remembering something.

"Sleeping pill?" he asked, suspiciously. Andrew gave a determined gulp, and nodded.

"They both wanted to test it to see what effects it would have, how long someone would be out, how responsive they'd be to suggestion, how much they'd remember, that sort of thing."

"This is the same sleeping pill they had me take in that cup of tea, was it?" Peter's voice getting louder, higher.

"Well, yeah."

"And this is part of a discussion of the most erotic . . . " Peter's voice failed him, his face appalled, eyes wide with shock.

"Well, yeah," Andrew admitted.

Andrew was looking at Caeide, not at Peter, "Well, anyway, they had Peter take the pill with his cup of tea, and he was out in, like, two minutes! So Wilson wrote that down in his little chart, suggested a few little tests, real simple stuff, quacking like a duck, putting on a shirt inside out, that sort of thing, and told them to keep good notes, then went back to his barracks. Then, the Colonel looked around and told me to go watch the radio, that he was expecting a message from London and didn't want to miss it. So I went below, but I figured I could listen for the radio from the ladder just as well, so I kept the opening kinda cracked so I could still tell what was going on, still see and hear." 

"And just what was going on?" Peter asked, very intent.

Andrew stuttered around, not meeting their eyes, "uh, the Colonel had had them put you in a bunk while Wilson was there but then . . ." The story was getting increasingly bizarre, Peter was getting a really strange look on his face.

"Them?" he asked, in a real quiet voice.

"Yeah, Carrington, and Mills, and Davis, those Air Force guys we were processing, the ones the Colonel used to work with before he got shot down."

Peter nodded thoughtfully, "If I'm remembering right, when he got me to drink that ruddy tea, the other guys were off meeting with the Underground."

And Andrew nodded in agreement, "Yeah, they were, and not due back for a few hours."

"Then the Colonel said they needed to test responsiveness and how you'd reaction to suggestion. You know, it seemed to me that there were easier ways to test for those things, but the Colonel already seemed to have it set in his mind what he wanted to use as a test." 

And the story Andrew told had them both swallowing hard, in disbelief, in shock.

Peter, who'd been standing by the desk, sat down in one of the big easy chairs with a big whomp! "I thought I'd dreamed all that! Thought I'd lost my bleedin' mind for awhile!" he said as he stared at Caeide, who stared back. "Only, in my dreams, it was Louie, Olsen, Kinch!"

Andrew looked at him sadly, not surprised, "yeah, I kinda figured that," and Caeide looked at him sharply, though Peter hadn't seemed to catch that whispered comment.

"Well, then Schultz and the Kommandant walked in, and I thought they were both going to faint. The Kommandant stuttered around and asked, "What are you doing??" and the Colonel told him, real casual like, "just playing with the Corporal, Kommandant."

The Kommandant got this really funny look on his face while he looked at you, real carefully, and kinda shivered, and then he told Schultz, "Schultz, I think you need to help out over there," and Schultz's eyes got really big, and stuttered around, and tried to tell him no, but the Kommandant got really insistant and made threats, and then finally Schultz nodded. The Kommandant got this really funny look on his face, and started breathing funny too.

It wasn't very long before the Kommandant told Schultze that they needed to get back to the office, right now! But the Colonel told the Kommandant that it wasn't fair that he didn't get to have any of the fun, laughed, and patted him on the shoulder and said, "later, okay, Kommandant?" and Klink backed up, and nodded, his eyes were all white-rimmed, like a donkey that had gotten scared."

"Then he and Schultz left, headed back to the office, and the Colonel grinned at Mills and went and showed him how to plug in the coffee pot. I was too far away to hear anything from the coffee pot, but the guys acted like it was really something, laughing and cheering and catcalling!"

Peter was sitting, leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, licking his lips. "Well, go on, Andrew. And me, where did I end up with all this? Seems they left me in a bit of a fix?" Peter said in a hard, tense voice.

Andrew flushed, "Well, they did; they put you in your nightshirt and got you into my bunk, since you still weren't really with it, and then the Colonel called me back up, told me to never mind about the radio, and told me to go get in your bunk and go to sleep." Hogan said they'd see what you remembered when you woke up, the other three went back down in the tunnels, laughing to themselves, and the Colonel went with them."

"And that was the end of it?"

Andrew flushed even deeper, and his voice got quieter, "well, no."

"Well, Andrew??" Peter's voice was quiet, but there was no give in it, no possibility of refusing the demand.

"I was sick to my stomach, I slipped out the side of the barracks to see if I could get some air, something to make me stop shaking inside, and there was Schultz, sitting on that bench beside the empty barracks next to hours. I was suddenly so mad at him, I walked over real fast to tell him off, and, Peter, he was crying! Suddenly, he wasn't a German guard, he was just an fat old man, one who'd been as good to us as he COULD be, crying, sitting there, rocking back and forth, rifle leaning up next to him, tears coming down his face, and him making these noises. He looked up at me, and didn't say anything, but the look in his eye, it was like his heart was broken. He wouldn't say anything, but I sat down beside him for awhile, not long, I didn't want to leave you for any longer, but then Langenscheidt came around the corner, and came and sat down in my place, nodded to me like telling me it was okay to leave, put his hand on Schultz's shoulder, and I came back to the barracks.

Caeide inhaled deeply, got up and poured herself a drink, and after looking at the two of them, poured a drink for them as well.

{"Somehow I didn't expect that simple question to get this complicated; Andrew, what are you trying to accomplish with this?"} she thought, but then looked at the two of them, and frowned, puzzled, shook her head. {"No, something's not right, part of that was true, I believe that, maybe most of it, but not all of it, I'd wager. To quietly stand back, not to try and intervene, not to try and protect Peter, that's not in Andrew's character."}

Peter looked at her, watching her narrowed eyes and her shaking her head at him, as if he was reading her mind.

"Andrew," he said quietly, hesitantly, "was all of that true? You need to tell me, right out, I won't be angry, but you 'ave to tell me the truth."

Andrew hung his head, and there was quiet, a very long bit of quiet, then said, he raised his head and looked at Peter with starkly tragic eyes.

"No, not all of it was true."

"Then what wasn't?"

"In the Barracks, the Colonel didn't send me down to the radio; I tried to argue him out of what he was starting, as soon as I figured it out, and then I grabbed his arm, and he said he didn't have time for this, they didn't know how long that pill would work, and they, he had them handcuff me to my bunk and shoved a gag in my mouth. I pulled and pulled, but I couldn't. . ."

Peter looked at him long and hard, "after the sleeping pill test, the one I remember anyway, I caught my hand on some splinters on the post of your bunk, I remember making you sand them down, calling you a silly twit for letting it get so chewed up. And you 'ad a pair of bum wrists around then, too, all bruised and scraped, said you'd caught em accidentally, and a sizeable bruise on your face, too, as I recall."

He frowned, then looked at Caeide and at Andrew, "Then why the lie?"

"I don't know," he confessed. There was silence.

Caeide wondered aloud, "maybe because somehow it made it seem more, not harmless, perhaps, but less like . . ." even she was searching for words. She knew the words, she just didn't think reminding Peter that his commanding officer, his lover, had raped him, helped others to rape him, would be helpful at this moment. Peter looked at her, thoughtfully, then nodded, reluctantly understanding what she was trying not to say. 

"Was that all, Andrew?" knowing somehow that there was more.

"No," came out at a whisper. "I got in the bunk with you, afterwards. I didn't intend to, figured you'd not want me to . . . but when you said my name, your voice was so . . . there was enough light for me to see your face, and you looked so lost, Peter, so lost, and confused."

"What did you do, Andrew," Caeide asked in a low voice.

He looked up at her, brown eyes glazed with tears, "I just lay there, holding him, stroking his face, his hair, then, when I could tell he was seeing me, I mean really seeing me and knowing it was me, at least a little bit, I kissed him, real easy, on his face, for a while, and then on his mouth, and he kissed me back and we kept doing that til he finally slept."

Peter just shook his head, "Andrew, luv, sometimes I wonder at you, I really do," and moved over to fold Andrew in his arms, holding him very gently but very tightly, his dark head bent over Andrew's lighter one. 

Caeide sat quietly, sipping her drink, one part of the conversation catching at her mind. When the men settled back down, this time on the sofa, together side by side, leaning forward, elbows on knees, shoulders touching, she looked at them and asked, hesitantly, "you said something about the Kommandant being told 'later'"; she made a point not to say "Hogan telling the Kommandant", she made every effort to stay neutral toward Hogan, not that she was, but she did the best she could, at least outwardly. They both looked at her, and she knew from the look in their eyes.

"No, it's alright, I shouldn't have said anything," she said, as she got up to get the decanter and pour each of them another drink. 

Peter gulped. "It's alright, I think it's time, probably well past time. I'd let myself put that out of my mind, shut it away, and I shouldn't have, I know that now, it's important."

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, staring at the floor. "A few nights later, 'e tells me we need to go to the Kommandant's office, and I just know I'm not going to like this, there was just something about the look in 'is eye, you know? And Andrew 'ere, 'e was all upset, telling me I shouldn't go, and the Colonel was getting all annoyed with 'im. I didn't remember anything from before, well, other than bits and pieces that I figured were just part of a really off kinda a dream, and, well, the Colonel 'ad been a more than a little, well, keyed-up last time around, so I just figured . . . But Andrew being so upset at any of the Colonel's orders, that didn't seem right, either. I didn't remember 'im ever questioning, not like that anyway, almost desperate like."

Andrew took up the narrative. "The other guys were out working on a job with the underground, there was just me to stop him, but he was still the Colonel, and I guess we all knew I couldn't stop him, and he said it was something that had to be done to keep Klink in line so we'd be able to get that last group of flyers out, and not to worry so, that nothing bad was going to happen to Newkirk, he wouldn't be getting hurt or anything, he'd be alright, and kinda laughed. Peter looked down at me and told me, "it's alright, Andrew, I'll be back afore you know it; just go on to sleep and I'll see you in the morning, that's a good lad." But he had that look in his eyes again, that lost, confused look, and I was worried for him."

Peter looked at him, and gave him a tiny, but loving smile, "I know; if I remember, you told the Colonel that 'e'd better be alright, boy, I mean sir,' and you 'ad this real angry look on your face; one of the few times I remember seeing you angry, Andrew."

Peter got a distant look on his face. "Well, 'e told the truth of it, in 'is own way," with a wry, "well, 'is truths always were 'is own truths, in 's own way, weren't they now?" Caeide raised her eyebrows; that was the most condemning she'd ever heard Peter be about his former commander, friend, lover.

"We went up through the tunnel to Klink's quarters, and Klink was there, still in his uniform, mostly, but with 'is jacket off. 'e was leaning against 'is desk, 'aving a drink, and just watched as we came on up out of the opening under the stove. The Colonel presented us in front of 'im, and 'ad me stand at attention. I remember 'im looking at me, up and down, and me feeling right uneasy about it. I started to shy away when 'e reached out to touch me face, but was ordered to stand still for what 'e was doing."

He got up and walked across the room, to the desk where he got his cigarettes and lit one, going back to his big chair that he favored. He licked his lips, and looked back at them. "Anytime I'd start to pull back, the Colonel would bring me back in line; I'll never understand, I didn't want it, didn't want 'im, made me a bit sick, but still . . ."

Caeide walked behind him, stroked his head gently, him tilting his head to look up at her with troubled eyes, "I remember my father telling my brothers after we'd heard a similar story, our body doesn't always know the difference, between it being someone we want and someone we don't want; and sometimes our minds can't override the body's reaction; there's no shame in it, laddie." Andrew looked at her gratefully; he'd not known what to say.

"Afterwards, 'e got dressed, told me to as well, and we left, going back through the tunnel," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Got back to the barracks, Colonel laughed real quiet like, telling me 'good job', and went into his office. Got changed into me nightshirt and climbed up into me bunk, and just lay there shaking." He stopped, got quiet.

"I had stayed awake," Andrew started, "and heard the Colonel tell him that, and I just felt sick inside for some reason, the way he said it, and the way he laughed. I kept my eyes closed, but heard Peter get changed and felt the bunk move when he climbed up. But the bunk kept moving, like it did when he had the chills when he'd get sick, and I couldn't stand it anymore. I climbed up in the bunk with him, brought my pillow and blankets up too. I wasn't sure he'd let me, I thought he might get mad and send me back down, but he didn't."

"Wasn't about to do that, never was so glad to see anyone in me life; thought I was going to shake the bunk apart by then. Partly felt bad about 'aving 'im that close after that bit I'd gone through, what I'd done, but cor blimey, 'e felt so good, so warm, so . . . clean . . . if you know what I mean," he said, looking at them both with those eyes.

"I gathered 'im up close, and we just 'eld on to each other. And 'e told me, "I was so scared, Peter, are you alright?" and then I was, well, if not alright exactly, at least a lot better, just because 'e was there, just because 'e cared enough to be scared for me."

Peter just sat for a bit, then his face turned cold, chilling her to the bone. "Andrew asked me, "will 'e make me go to the Kommandant's office too, some time," and I didn't know what to tell 'im. That night 'ad proven to me that the Colonel was capable to doing things I'd never thought 'e would, all in the name of getting the bleeding job done. All I could do was 'old Andrew, and tell 'im, "I'll do my best to see that that never 'appens, Andrew," and I made meself the same promise, knowing I might not be able to stop 'im from taking Andrew there, but I'd do everything I could," and he looked at them, ice in his eyes, "ANYTHING, to see it didn't 'appen. Ended up 'aving to explain that to the Colonel a bit later, ended up with 'im getting a nice little nick from me pencil sharpener to make 'im see I meant business."

In a different tone of voice, trying to be casual, he continued, "ended up making another trip meself instead, but it was worth it, and not near so bad second time around, knowing what to expect and all," he said, lying through his teeth, as they both knew quite well.

Caeide and Andrew looked at each other, and together, moved over to Peter, Caide leaning down to put her head next to his, her arms around his shoulders; Andrew kneeling at his side, his arms around Peter's waist, his head over Peter's heart. As they held him, rocked him gently, their love and warmth surrounding him, the festering pain that he'd held inside for so long, unacknowledged, broke open, and he felt the tears from the betrayal sliding down his face, and gradually a sort of peace came over him. 

Finally, she broke the silence.

"Andrew, why?" and he looked up at her with those eyes, and then at Peter, who was staring at them both.

{"Why, what?"} he thought.

But Andrew knew what she meant, "partly, what you told me, when we were talking about the Dance, about needing consent, about Peter needing to say 'yes' to the idea, no surprises, about safe words to make everything stop, and that last bit you told me then, what you'd been taught; that if someone can't say no, for whatever reason, then that really means that they also can't say yes. Even when I'm 'in charge', we all know that it's play, that both of you can stop everything, at any time, if that's what you really want."

"That first night, Peter couldn't say no, because of that pill. The next time, he was being ordered by his commanding officer, had been told it was crucial to the mission, which means he couldn't really say no, either, not in his own mind. Which means there was never any 'yes', and no way to just make it all stop."

Then he looked even sadder, "and since the guys were here, he was remembering, in his dreams, in his nightmares, and it was Louie and Kinch and Olson, not the Colonel and those other guys, and it was tearing him apart, making him feel angry with them, him thinking that. And, last, the Colonel, wanting him to leave with him; what's to stop him from deciding it would be. . . useful to give him over to something like that again?"

She nodded; he would know, better than her, about the dreams; Peter had not been joining her very often, spending most of his nights with Andrew; she'd expected that, and accepted that would be the case, til they got used to being together again. And she had no illusions of what Hogan would do to get a job done, none at all. And sometimes she had doubts about what he would do, period, even when a job wasn't involved, just what limits he DID set for himself, if any.

"Anytime he had those dreams, he'd get real tense when Olsen, or Louie or Kinch were mentioned, and I could tell he was angry with them, though he'd never admit it. It wasn't right, him remembering them as being a part of that when they hadn't been, when they would have maybe been able to stop it if they'd been there, either time. Maybe they'd could've done what I couldn't. They were older, more experienced, at least Louie and Kinch were, and Kinch was stronger, maybe . . ." and he turned his head so they wouldn't see his tears, his remaining guilt.

{"If he's going to be angry, it should be with the right people,"} he looked at them finally, letting them see the anguish inside, {"let him be angry with the Colonel, for what he did, and with me for not stopping it, and not telling him about it! And if he's going to trust, then he should be trusting the right people too!"}

Then, "if you want me to leave, I mean for good, I understand . . ." but he didn't get any farther before Peter had him clasped to him, holding him as if never to let go, dropping a hard kiss on the top of his head, "don't you know, Andrew, you're what kept me sane in there?! You did what you could, there wasn't anything else you could have done; if you'd told me then, I'd have lost me bleedin' mind, I'd 'ave been of no use whatsoever; you did the right thing. And for now, well, you did the right thing again; it was time to get it all out in the open. Maybe now we can both let go of it. And you're right about the other as well; knowing who you can really trust to 'ave a proper care for you, who you can't, that's what's needed in deciding where you belong, who you belong with," looking at Caeide with full understanding now.

She stood beside the chair, stroking their soft hair, loving both of them, and promising herself, as Peter had done, {"I'll do anything, everything, whatever it takes, to keep anyone from hurting either of them, ever again! There's always room for one more shallow grave on that far hillside, if it comes to that, aye, and more, and no one the wiser! After all, there's that space already reserved, with a marker and everything!"}

***  
Peter was sitting on the railing of the fence outside the horse corrall when Andrew spotted him, and came over to join him.

"You look awful serious, for it being so early in the day," he said questioningly.

"Was just wondering why, is all," taking a deep drag off his cigarette. He'd been doing his thinking inside the stables, but he couldn't smoke in there, not with all the hay and straw and grain dust, so he'd come back out here.

"Why? You mean like what Caeide asked, why I said something now?" Andrew asked, knowing this was about that upheaval of a discussion yesterday.

"No, I get that, I understand why you decided it needed to be said now. Was wondering why, in the first place. I was trying to remember the timing, see if anything had happened, if I'd really bolloxed something up, or done something to set him off; wasn't anytime close after Gretel, I know that. Did I mess up somehow on a mission? Argue too much with 'im about some job? Maybe some special letter from Caeide, or maybe Coura, or was I reminiscing specially 'eavy about her, and 'e overheard and got pissed? I know it wasn't close after any of the visits, hers or Meghadas, but I can't remember anything else." He jumped back down from the railing, and leaned against it, considering, taking another deep drag.

Andrew chilled inside, and then was so angry he almost couldn't breathe.

"DON'T! JUST DON'T!"

Peter, shaken out of his reverie by Andrew's vehemence, looked at him in astonishment, "don't what, Andrew?"

Andrew stepped closer to him, hands forming fists at his side. Peter wondered uneasily if Andrew was about to take a swing at him.

"Don't start thinking about what you might have done to cause him to do what he did! Don't try to tie it up with Caeide or her sisters, a letter, a visit, a remembering of something that happened to the two of you. That's like giving him an excuse for what happened, what he did! Peter, what if it hadn't been you? What if it had been Olsen, Louie, or Kinch, or me? Can you think of ANYTHING we could have done that would make him doing to us what he did to you, him and his friends, make that okay? What mission do you think would have been important enough that it would have been okay for him to take me, or one of the others over to Klink's quarters? Without giving us the chance to say yes or no, without even letting us know what was going to happen? Just what would have made it alright for him to do that?"

Peter stood there, stunned, both at Andrew's anger, and at what he'd just said. He took a deep breath, frowned, and looked at Andrew; Andrew didn't move, didn't say anything, giving him time to consider, just watching his eyes. The dawning anger, resentment growing there frightened Andrew a little; he hoped it was being directed where it should be, where it belonged. Peter moved over to sit on a bale of hay, as if his knees wouldn't hold him up any longer, sat with his head bowed, crushing out his cigarette between his fingers.

"Getting one of us to play along with that little scene in the barracks, you know, AGREEING to take that bloody pill and be part of their game, knowing what was to 'appen, that'd 'ave been one thing; can't see any of us DOING that, especially with those three strangers, you know, just IF. Can't see the rest of us allowing that even, if we knew."

His voice grew cold, "I think I'd have done something to get me up on charges if 'e'd tried 'is tricks with you, Andrew, and the others as well. Same with Klink's quarters, one of us knowing, agreeing the mission was so important, agreeing to go and be the goat, as it were; if it'd been important enough, maybe; we did some really off things back then to get the bloody job done. Not the way it was done, though, not like that, not walking in pretty much blind, except for that bad feeling up front."

Then, "Not 'im thinking to take you there later, like 'e was thinking 'e could."

He sat back, rocking a little, remembering, thinking.

"Payback? No, you want payback for anything one of us mighta done, a dressing down like I got for Gretel, extra duties, no trips to town, even a fist upside the jaw maybe; something really bad, then transferring us out, bringing us up on charges. Not what 'appened, though, not anything like what 'appened."

He took a deep breath. "Then what, why, Andrew? The first, just because 'is old friends were there, as entertainment of a sorts? Maybe showing 'is power? You didn't say they seemed surprised or put off by it all; maybe that wasn't the first time they'd gotten up to those tricks, the four of them."

A sick look, "was that what I was, Andrew, a bit of amusement? Just showin' them I was 'is to do with whatever 'e liked?"

Another deep breath, "With old Klink, HE was one of the ones who saved me when those three guards tried it on. What changed during those years? Was it that I wasn't to be 'urt, did they look at it that way, as being 'armless? Well, we always knew there were ways they kept each other in line, so to speak; maybe that was just a special payoff of some kind, a bribe maybe;" then, bleakly, quietly, "or maybe they just got to liking it all a bit too much, that playing with people's lives, 'aving the power over them."

Caeide came to the porch to call them to breakfast, stopped, breath caught in her throat to see them, Peter hunched over sitting on that bale of straw, rocking back and forth, Andrew leaning over as if uncertain what to do, looking back to the house, desperately. She stepped down off the porch, walked, then ran to them, looking into Andrew's frightened, sickened eyes, doing the only thing she could think of to bring Peter back to them.

"Peter, Peter love, you're frightening Andrew, love. Please, you're frightening him, yes, and me too, please love, please," over and over again, to finally see Peter reappear in those iced, colder than ice, remote eyes, the hard eyes of a stranger, realizing, looking up, to her, to the frantic man beside him.

"Andrew, no, Andrew luv, don't, it's allright, shush, luv, it's alright," crooning to him, and she managed to guide them both into the stables, into the pile of fresh straw, where they lay, the three of them, more tears falling, tears that should have been shed a long time ago, healing tears, warm arms holding, surrounding, rocking.


End file.
